War Socks

Walking home tonight
the bourealis at its peak
walking in the circles in my mind
of the maze of the mansion
i realise i am wearing camoflauge war socks
and marching home peacefully
and as the gods told me it was time to take reality for a walk
i closed my eyes and saw the blueprint i had
and then just described it
now i'm thinking of the flag in my room of the pirate skull
and my other blue pair of socks
with the crossbones and skulls on them
and i knew with these posters of all these beautiful men around me
a mirror i tell less attractive people
to tell themselves four good things about themselves
a mirror in the shape of a bike tire
to exercise inner demons
but the planes flying over head understand wether or not we march for the socks
of meaning or the posters of the slide of beautifull people and mirrors
of vanity and selfish needs